


You make me such a softie

by lollyspot



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Angst, Based on Newsies (1992), Boys In Love, Brooklyn Newsies Are Sprace Shippers, F/F, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Manhattan Newsies Are Too, Mentioned Sarah Jacobs (Newsies), My First Fanfic, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Racetrack Higgins Needs a Hug, Soft Spot Conlon, Spot Conlon Is Good With Kids, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins-centric, Underage Smoking, You can rip that headcanon from my cold dead hands, because I say so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28199565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollyspot/pseuds/lollyspot
Summary: Race and Spot facing different challenges through the strike of 1899. Will their relationship survive? Will they keep it a secret or will someone find out?(I suck at summaries, and this is my first time posting on ao3 so be kind to me. Thank you)
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	You make me such a softie

**Author's Note:**

> Race makes his way to Brooklyn and finds out why Spot and his boys didn’t show up at the strike.

Race sat with the rest of the newsies around the bunk room. Jack and Davey had gone to try and get Crutchy out of the refuge. 

Everyone else were sitting around playing cards, talking quietly or just sitting in silence. Racetrack himself was playing cards with Snipeshooter, Specs and Boots. It was going slow, and none of them really managed to focus on the game. 

Race sighed and tossed his cards on the floor before standing up. “Where’s you going?” Boots asked and looked up at him. 

“Out. I need ta take a walk”. Boots nodded silently and turned back to the game. 

Race tugged his hat on and hurried out into the dark. 

Crutchy had been arrested. It was really starting to sink in. Race hadn’t had time to take him with him. 

When Jack had yelled for everyone to run, he had grabbed as manny of the littles as he could. Turning back he had seen Crutchy still ripping papes and throwing them into the air. “Whoa! Crutchy! Scram! Scram!”

It hadn’t been enough, and he could only watch as the cops blocked the exit on their horses, while Oscar and Morris dragged Crutchy away. If only they had had more people. 

He hadn’t realized where his feet were taking him until he found himself halfway across the Brooklyn bridge. 

If only Brooklyn had joined them. Poor Crutchy. He had never done anything wrong in his life, and now he was stuck in the Refuge. 

Race stopped and looked back towards Manhattan. He turned and continued his walk to Brooklyn. He was gonna give Spot Conlon a piece of his mind. 

He ran the last part over the bridge and towards the Brooklyn lodging house. 

When he got there he banged loudly on the door. “Spot! Open up!”. A boy Race remembered as Spike, Spot’s second, opened the door and glared down at Race, who glared back. 

“What do ya want, Higgins?” he asked and crossed his arms. 

“I’s here ta see Conlon” Race said and moved forwards. Spike stopped him. 

“He ain’t seeing nobody”

“Oh yea? We’s gonna see ‘bout that” Race said and pushed his way past Spike. He had barely gotten inside however before Spike grabbed his neck collar. 

“Ya ain’t seeing ‘im, Higgins!”

Race whipped around. “Who’s gonna stop me huh? Yo—“  
He didn’t get to finish as Spike’s fist connected with his nose. Race grunted and rose a hand to his nose. It came away bloody. Fuck

Race raised his fist to throw a punch when some yelled. “Hey!” Race froze and looked up to see Spot Conlon himself, standing at the top of the stairs, glaring angrily down at them. 

“Spike! What’s I said ‘bout fight’n Race?!”

“Ya said ta leave ‘im alone. But ya said no one was to disturb ya..”

Spot sighed tiredly. “I’ll have woids with ya later”

Spike nodded and disappeared into the common room. Race looked up at Spot who nodded for him to follow. Race hurried after him up to his private room, or “king suite” as Race called it. 

“Sit down” Spot said as he closed the door behind them. The room was dark. The curtains were closed and the bed was messy. Race noticed old newspapers lying around the room along with some of Spot’s clothes. 

He sat down in Spot’s bed, which gave a sigh under him. Spot had gone over to the bathroom and gotten a wet rag that he handed to Race, who started cleaning up his nose, before Spot went over to the window. He moved the curtain slightly to the side and stood there looking out over his city. 

“What are you’se doin’ here Racer. I’s told ya a million times, it’s dangerous ta cross the bridge when it’s this dark”. Spot sounded tired, and he still hadn’t looked at Race. 

Race was silent. He was lost in thought. Spot usually didn’t mind him coming over so late. Heck, he was usually extremely pleased with it. And now, why did he sound so tired?

“Racetrack?”. He was pulled away from his thoughts by Spot’s voice. 

“Why weren’t ya there ta help us, Spot? I thought ya said ya would consider it?”. Race looked towards Spot who was still staring at the window. 

“I said I needed ta know I could trust youse guys. Jacky boy had ta prove it ta me. So it seems he has, now”. Spot’s voice sounded wired. It was hoarse, almost more raspy than-

Oh

Race mentally kicked himself for being so blind. All his frustration and anger was immediately replaced with concern and worry. 

“Spot!” he said, a little louder than he had intended. Spot finally turned around and looked Race in the eyes, as said eyes widened. 

For the first time, Race got a good look at Spot. His nose and cheeks were flushed pink, his hair was messy and his eyes were narrowed, with dark rings underneath. The rest of his face was pale as a sheet. 

“Spot. You look horrible” Race almost whispered. He dropped the bloody rag and hurried over to Spot. Spot however took a step back and held his arms in front of him to keep Race from coming closer. 

Race felt a sting in his heart, that turned to empathy and love at Spot’s next words.  
“I don’t want you’se ta get sick too, Racer”. Spot closed his eyes in a silent groan. He had just admitted he was sick, as the smile grew on Race’s face. 

Race took both of Spot’s outstretched hands in his own and led him to his bed. He slowly sat the King of Brooklyn down on the mattress and fluffed his pillow. Spot said nothing m, but just stared at Race. 

“You’se need ta rest, Spottie” Race said as he lowered Spot down in a laying position, and brushed some of his brown hair away from his sweaty forehead. 

“Gosh, youse buinin’ up. How long has this been goin’ on?”

“Since... yesterday night” Spot said slowly. 

“Why didn’t ya say somethin’?” Spot just looked at Race, and Race knew the answer before it came. 

“The leader o’ Brooklyn don’t get sick”.  
Race rolled his eyes. “Course ye do. You’se a human too Spot”

“I’se... supposed ta watch my boys. I cant be sick”

“They can take care a’ themselfs”. Spot didn’t say anything at that. 

“So. Youse proven I can trust youse. Next event you’ll count on Brooklyn” he said and took Race’s hand. 

Race smiled. “Youse ought’a have seen it. We tipped da waggon, papes were flyin everywhere. Oh and the look on Weasel’s face... Oh and the Dalanceys, priceless. Oh and when the bulls sho—“ Race stopped and felt a lump in his throat. 

Spot looked up at him. “Racetrack?”. Spot took Race’s other hand and pulled him down next to him. Race wrapped his arms around Spot’s chest. “Racer what’s wrong? Did dey hoit ya?”. Spot’s voice was low and becoming worried. 

Race took a deep breath and buried his face in Spot’s shoulder. “The bulls. They’s got Crutchy” he whispered, his voice muffled by Spot’s shoulder. 

“Race, I cant hear what you’se sayin’. Look at me Race”. Race lifted his head. “They’s got Cr... utchy. He’s in dah Refuge..”. Spot looked at Race with those beautiful eyes that Race loved so much. He put his arms around Race and pulled him closer, while he stroke through his black hair. 

“I’s sorry I wasn’t there Race. But I couldn’t send my boys without me”. 

“I understand. The bulls would’a showed up anyways. It ain’t ya fault..” Race trailed off and Spot closed his eyes. He really should get some sleep. 

“I- I didn’t have time ta get ‘im. I was trynn’a get the lil’ ones outa’ there. It’s my fa-“. Spot interrupted him. 

“Ay, none o’ that. You’se not ta blame for any o’ this Racer. If anyone’s ta blame, it’s Snyder”

“But I-“

“Shush... Sleep, Race” Spot kissed the top if his head. Race closed his mouth and curled into Spot, before they both drifted of to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it. I have additional chapters that I’m currently working on, so let me know if this is something you would like me to continue. I don’t know how regularly I’ll be able to update with school, sports and work, but I’ll do my best. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated. It really helps a writer’s confidence and you get motivated to write and update more often. 
> 
> Once again thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Till we meet again...


End file.
